


The Red Confession Box

by Clairexfraserx



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Bisexual Character, BisexualClairebb, Bisexuality, F/F, F/M, Gay, GaysofTheRidge, No Lesbians Die, Queerlander, Sapphic, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29261130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clairexfraserx/pseuds/Clairexfraserx
Summary: Claire Fraser has never told anyone about her first love.One day, exhausted from a hard day's work, her husband starts to ask questions about her past. The story of her life begins to unfold, and the conversation's results could have detrimental effects on Claire. Is honesty worth the risk?
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Geillis Duncan, Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42
Collections: QueerlanderChronicles





	The Red Confession Box

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone!
> 
> I'm delighted to be starting off this Queerlander Valentines Series! Being part of the Outlander LGBTQ+ community has been such a blessing during these difficult times. I firstly want to thank Brittney for Beta-ing this piece for me. Your patience and support are SO appreciated. I want to thank Michaela for being a huge part of accepting my queer journey and for always listening. Your kindness and friendship mean the world to me. To everyone on the Gathering of The Gays Groupchat- It's been such a wild ride, planning this and I'm so excited to see where the future takes us. You're all the shit.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!  
> @Clairexfraserx

**_Preface_ **

_ One of my first memories was my mother. I distinctly recall the scent of her jasmine perfume, lingering in the heaviness of the humid London air. Her face though, remains blurred as if someone took a brush across an oil painting and destroyed the detail. That’s the curse of time; it chips away at your truths until there’s nothing left except sullied colours and shapes. The memory of my mother touching another woman’s hand with a tenderness (I now know) reserved for lovers and placing the softest of kisses on top of her blonde hair, was beautiful. There was a purity with their love that I instantly clocked as different from the relationship she had with my father. They had cared for one another, I’m sure of that, but they didn’t love each other like this. That was my first indication of love. I had learned in that one single moment that to love a woman, so profoundly, was sacred. The thought of my mother so comfortable and in love will always be engraved in my memory;  **unsullied.** _

  


_ Lallybroch, Scotland 1737 _

  


“Sassenach, yer thinking so hard it’s making  _ my _ heid hurt,” Jamie commented whilst closing the heavy fabric curtains, which needed a lot more arm power than Claire had. She was exhausted, looking after wee Jamie all day was no ‘wee’ task. That child had far too much energy for Claire’s liking. 

  


“Hmm” She weakly responded, moving what little strength she had.

  


“Let me brush yer hair for ye Sassenach; ye look as if ye might topple over to the other side if ye move another muscle” Her-ever- _ charming  _ husband replied, grabbing the brush from her hand before she could refuse. 

  


He tenderly started detangling her curls, starting from the ends. She smiled at this, seemingly insignificant action, but he  _ knew _ just how to look after her curls- after her. It reminded Claire of her mother and the woman. Her heartbeat quickened, and her palms began to sweat.  _ Should she tell him? _

  


“Sassenach, ye alright?” Jamie stopped brushing her curls, crouched in front of her, put his hands on her knees, and looked up at her pale face. His eyes grew larger with concern, making Claire laugh; he looked like Thumper with his big blue eyes. She lightly placed her hand on his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw softly and kissed the top of his head. 

  


“I’m afraid.” She replied simply, her voice small and hollow. 

  


“Of what, Sassenach? What scares ye so much, ye dinna wish to tell me? Ye’ve told me stories of the arrow- planes and little red confession boxes. I dinna think there’s much that can surprise me now, Sassenach.” Claire nearly laughed at Jamie’s rendition of a telephone box, but she knew he was using humour to try and wean a confession out of her. Jamie was undoubtedly a Mackenzie. The charm of a Fraser went a long way, but the subtle utterance of a Mackenzie? That could win hearts and minds over any day. 

  


“My mother was a beautiful woman. I remember that much,” Claire started, surprised with herself for beginning there. But now that the dam had been opened she didn’t think she could stop talking, so help her God. She only prayed he would understand and accept her. 

  
  


“I was five years old when my parents died. My home had blown up during the Blitz I told you about, so I had no photos or paintings to remember them by. They died in an accident. It was too immediate for them to have felt any prolonged pain. I guess there are small mercies, even with death.

My parents didn’t love each other- not like the stories you told me about your mother and father. My mother’s heart was for someone else.” She felt herself hesitate, and her breath faltering with nervous anticipation at the incoming revelation. Jamie clutched her hand whilst simultaneously running soothing circles on her left knee. 

  


“She was in love with another woman.”

  


If Jamie was surprised by this, his face didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded along, signalling for her to continue. 

  


“One of the only memories I have of her is seeing her with this woman. Although her face is blurred to me now, I know it was an expression of love- you could feel the adoration between them. I don’t know how to describe it- it’s the intimacy you get when you’re with the one you love, that sacred space, and understanding each other that can be sensed. I know it now because it’s what we have, Jamie.” Jamie’s face now showed great surprise, and his demeanour changed to that of a stunned rabbit in front of headlights. It was the first time she had admitted to him (and to herself) that she loved him.

  


“I felt it easier to recognise these feelings for you, not only because I saw it with my mother, but I had something like it before. Not with Frank, but with a woman.” Claire felt the timbre of her voice land solidly, the words sinking and resonating deeply in her chest. She quickly cleared her throat and continued talking, no longer glancing at Jamie, fearing his reaction. 

  


“I had just turned eighteen years old. I was still travelling with my Uncle Lamb at the time. It was our last adventure together before we travelled back home to England. We arrived in the Netherlands for an archaeological dig with some of my Uncle’s colleagues. I had convinced my uncle that I could stay in Amsterdam’s city with a midwife who was willing to take me on as a helper for the next months we were due to stay there. My uncle agreed, so he travelled north with colleagues whilst I stayed in Amsterdam.” She didn’t have to see Jamie’s disapproval at Uncle Lamb’s decision to allow her to stay in Amsterdam on her own; she could feel him squirming in the discomfort beside her. Claire would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so, well-  _ personal _ . 

  


“One day, the woman I was assisting- Mrs  Bogaert, asked me to go and collect some, hmm, _ recreational _ _ herbs _ shall we say, from a herbalist friend of hers.”

  


“Aye, I ken quite fine yer meaning Sassenach. Go on,” Jamie said, grimacing at his memories of those recreational herbs. She remembered the stories Ian had recounted over a few glasses of whiskey of Jamie and Ian’s youthful experiences during their time in France. Jamie seemed a little queasy at the brief recollection.

  


“So I did as she asked, I found the old building tucked away behind the hustle and bustle of the city. You wouldn’t have known it was there unless someone directed you specifically to it. That was part of the attraction of the apothecary. A Scot’s family owned the business: The Duncan’s. They had migrated to Amsterdam a few years prior. Mr Duncan had a daughter the same age as me, named Geillis, who worked at the apothecary. She reminds me a lot of you, now that I come to think about it; fiery-tempered, stubborn, brave but soft as a kitten when you get to the heart of them.” She placed her hand onto Jamie’s chest and let in rest there. She could feel his heart pulsing and trembling underneath her hand. It was strong, but also afraid. 

  


“From the moment I opened that apothecary door and saw her, I had fallen hard for her, Jamie. I not only felt what it was to be loved so unconditionally, but I was closer to my mother. I understood her. I was scared, though. I was so afraid of being found out that I spent much of our relationship living in fear. She understood it but had always lived so carelessly without that fear. That was the difference between her and me. She asked me the week before my Uncle was due to arrive if I would stay and live with her in the Netherlands. She didn’t want me to return to England, and truth be told, I didn’t want to return either. But I knew I had to. So I left her. For years, we wrote each other letters, even during my marriage to Frank, my nurse’s training, on France’s frontlines. 

One day I received a letter from her father. She had died during the German’s bombing of Rotterdam. Her mother and father survived with mild injuries, but she didn’t make it.” Jamie noticed the tears before Claire had a chance to realise that she was crying. Held onto her so tightly, soothing her with sweet utterances of Gaelic which her cry even more. 

  


“Oh, Sassenach… I’m so verra sorry… Just let it all out  Mo Nighean Donn, it’s ok…” His soothing voice brought her back to reality, rather than stuck in a trance of reliving the distant past—her _ red-haired lass _ .

  


“She sounded verra braw. We might have got on.” The idea of Jamie and Geilis head to head in a heated dispute made Claire laugh out loud. 

  


“Oh, I’m not so sure about that, she was very hot-headed and cunning as a fox. I think you two would have had more fun outwitting one another, so yes, maybe you would have gotten on.” Claire wiped the tears away from her face and looked up at Jamie, finally plucking up the courage to see his reaction. She looked for the disgust and betrayal she had so feared would be a result of telling him about Geilis, but she didn’t see any of that. There was nothing but love there. The speaking was unnecessary. She saw it. 

  


“I’m so, verra glad ye told me about her, Sassenach,” Jamie said finally.

  


“I was so afraid that you would shunt me out and for sinning and sodomy. I thought you wouldn’t and couldn’t accept me for loving a woman…” This time, it was Jamie’s time to start tearing up. 

  


“Oh, Calman geal, I will always love _you_. Everything that makes ye you is valuable. Love is a verra precious thing, and ye have taught me that, Claire. Ye loving a woman makes nae difference to me, because it’s part of who ye are, and I wouldna change ye for the world.” 

  


“Oh, Jamie... I love you.” She leaned in to kiss him, a newfound layer of intimacy formed between them, deepening the roots of their marriage. Jamie kissed her back in response, adding more light to the growth of them. 

  


“Well- this wee- red-confessional- box wasnae so bad was it?” Jamie said whilst coming up for air. Claire wholeheartedly laughed at this, smacking her husband’s arse lightly, which made him chortle in response. 

  


“No, it wasn’t. Why don’t you leave a confession with me? The information provided will be kept in the utmost secrecy...” Claire replied coyly, sliding her hands slowly up her husband’s thigh. He groaned at the  _ softness  _ of her hands. 

  


“I would’na be opposed to it being my turn…” He said. With as much grace, as he could muster while watching the trajectory of his wife’s wandering hand.

  


“God blessed me with the best of both worlds... it’s only fair I use that blessing wisely.” Claire hummed in his ear whilst swiftly moving her hand underneath his kilt. He gasped in response at that moment of first contact.

  


“Aye, he most certainly did. I ask ye to bless me, Sassenach.”

  


“Your wish is my command.”

  



End file.
